Rescue Mission: Birdsong

[Estelle Russard]

Three months Ago

Estelle's footsteps echoed on the polished linoleum of the corridor as she paced evenly toward the Rebel Alliance Intel boardroom. She had been summoned from her quarters by a starchy, unsmiling messenger not ten minutes before and her heart had been thudding in her chest ever since. Not that to look at her one would know.

Estelle had all but completed her training with the Rebel Alliance. The few who knew her upon her initial arrival would hardly recognize the serious girl that now walked the hallway of Rebel Headquarters. The easy smile and friendly charm that had formerly identified her had been replaced by a reserved and oftentimes impenetrable politeness. She was not a person easy to get to know. She was not the person she had been nine months ago.

The boardroom itself was more impressive in name than in actuallity. The sliding doors drew open before her to reveal a sterile room centered with a large steel table. This was surrounded by approximately ten metal chairs, a white board with pointer and a holovid projector built into the ceiling directly overhead. It was obvious this was a room where the occupants did not linger idly or pass long hours sitting in banal conversation. It was hard and to the point, as were the conversations and deliberations which took place here. This was a room of business and decision making. A place where battles were planned, costs weighed and lives held in balance every bit as much as in the field.

Estelle was the first to arrive. She stood awkwardly for a moment, folding and unfolding her arms and shifting from one foot to the other. Then she took a seat, where she felt even more awkward sitting alone at such a large table.

She took to her feet once again and walked around the room looking at everything and nothing. She checked her chrono. She was a bit early.

The sliding doors swished open, and the rookie rebel Intel operative stood to attention.

[Dasquian Belargic]

“At ease, Agent Russard.”

Dasquian Belargic smiled disarmingly. Though he carried the title of Director of Intelligence, he certainly didn't feel it necessary that his operatives treat him as any more than an equal. While the commanders of the Empire might have needed the ego-boost, Dasquian craved no such praise.

Followed by his long-time partner in crime, Grace Van-Derveld, Belargic sat down at the conference table and motioned for Estelle to do the same, so that the two veterans sat opposite the rookie agent. Dasquian had a datafile under his arm, which he laid on the table for the time being.

“Tell me... what do you know about the planet Spindrift?”

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle took her seat obediently, acknowledging Dasquian's "at ease" command with a professional nod, then greeted Grace with a more relaxed smile. Estelle was comfortable around Grace - the assistant director having originally recruited Russard and, more personally, had been a strength to the young rebel during the days following James' death.

But Estelle had had very little interaction with Dasquian thus far, and despite his easy going manner, she still felt unfamiliar and awkward. So, it was with an effort to appear informed that Estelle responded, taxing her memory for what little she knew of the planet Spindrift.

"It is located in the Riso sector, western Mid-Rim. Not much there I believe. I think the Imperials have a communuications relay outpost there."

[Grace Van-Derveld]

Grace nodded and leaned back comfortably in her chair. "You are correct. The Empire does have an outpost there. Mainly to send data back and forth between the core and outer rim territories. The relay station is not our primary concern. One of the civilian workers is.”

[Estelle Russard]

"A civillian?"

The question was clear in her voice.

"Something the Alliance needs get involved with?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Right. This civilian is a mechanic... an Alliance sympathizer who has been feeding us information about the station's activity for some time now. He was due to rendezvous with one of our contacts in the area a couple of days ago, but didn't show up for the meeting. Unfortunately, he's been captured. The Imperials are holding him in preparation for transfer to an interrogation facility. We need to get to him before he's shipped off world, or we risk not only losing a valuable informant but the possibility that – under pressure – he might crack and spill details about the Rebellion.”

This said, Dasquian sat forward. “We want you to intercept his transfer.”

[Estelle Russard]

"Yes, sir"

Estelle's reply was concise. A different response from the swirling thoughts and apprehensions that were triggered in her head at Dasquian's statement.

What she really wanted to say was, "Me? Are you sure?" A lot was at stake, the man's life least of all, to entrust to a green operative fresh out of training. But she was wise enough to not voice such misgivings. If the request was made of her, she knew it had been made with deliberate forethought by her superiors. She was at once thrilled and terrified at the challenge Dasquian and Grace had put to her.

She responded as a professional - just as she had been trained.

"Do we have any word on the man's physical condition? And of the type of facility where he is currently being held?"

[Grace Van-Derveld]

With the months of intensive training that Estelle had been put through, it had become increasingly difficult to gauge the Agent's emotions. Yet Grace saw that slight flicker of her friend's eye to indicate her surprise that she was chosen for this mission. Her nerves were bundles of emotional highs and lows.

"For now he is being held at the relay outpost. They have a small detention cell for short-term usage and as far as we can tell, he's in good health. For now."

[Estelle Russard]

She absorbed the information from Grace.

"Will it be a team retrieval, or do I go alone?"

Estelle did not want to ask her next question, but knew she could not complete her mission without knowing the answer.

"...And, if the package proves unobtainable, is there an order to neutralize this threat to security?"

Each one in the room understood exactly what that statement meant.

[Dasquian Belargic]

It was with a grave familiarity that Dasquian replied: “Yes. The security of the Rebellion is paramount.” This said, Dasquian slid forward the datafile on the tabletop. It contained a dossier on the Alliance's contact, as well as some reports on the relay station, the planet it was based upon and some of the senior members of staff in charge of the outpost. “At this moment in time we don't have the resources to send a full team to Spindrift, so you will be going it alone... we have the utmost confidence in you, Agent Russard.”

[Estelle Russard]

Lifting the datafile, Estelle stood up from the table. Her orders were clear. It was do, or die for the alliance informer and the young rebel felt the weight of the task in the slim disk now held in her hand.

"Will there be anything else, sir?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

"That will be all, Agent."

Dasquian stood, nodding briskly.

"May the Force be with you."

[Estelle Russard]

May the Force be with you ..Yes, she sure hoped it would be.

Taking her leave from Dasquian and Grace, Estelle went directly back to her quarters to study the dossier and familiarize herself with its data. It would not be long before she found herself on Spindrift and the knowledge gleaned here would be put to good use.

[Estelle Russard]

Planet Spindrift - Imperial Communication Relay Station ST90
0100 hours

There was a storm rolling in. The rumbling clouds overhead were heavy with moisture and looked precariously suspended against the night sky. The pending downpour would hold off a little while, however- it did not yet smell like rain. Very few stars were to be seen, if any, and there was a strengthening wind that rattled the trees around the station perimeter, shaking leaves in sporadic gusts. For most folks, it was not a desirable night to be out. For a spy, it was perfect.

The natural elements lent themselves to good cover both visually and audibly. Estelle had her first stroke of luck of the mission, and this bolstered her mood.

She had diligently studied the layout of the station, which Dasquian had given her and was familiar with it as if she had spent long shifts within its walls.

She was armed with knowledge and training and now had nature on her side.

Moving silently among the shadows, Estelle halted in her approach, leaning against a small outer building - a utilities shed -in order to case her entrance point from that vantage. A small movement caught her attention and she warily drew her blaster.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

It was a *tink* Estelle heard, something striking metal. Then the strike of flame and the sound of someone exhaling noisily.

Her reaction was instant, not of nerves but of focus, trusting the countless number of hours she'd spent practicing for situations such as this. There was no fear as her body moved fluidly, sliding to one side as she spun and ducked out of any way for the noise behind her to fire upon her if there a blaster was trained on her.

Estelle slid behind the tool shed, knowing it would protect her as she studied the alley. The buildings next to her were smooth and high, with no support ladders to allow anyone else to interupt her. Even if the intruder had friends, they would have to actually be in the alley with him, not behind her in the street. Off to her right a *whirring* came as a light shone into the alley, focussing on the figure leaning up against the wall, its face was partially concealed by a translucent haze of smoke filtering from the lit tip of a cigar resting in his right hand. As the smoke and darkness cleared, the Rebel Spy began to take in the figure before her.

It was the boots she first noticed, the boots...and the smirk on the face of the owner. The former were black and scuffed from wear, but the upper portion of them were covered by dark trousers (which was odd, considering the normal fashion of tucking the pants into the boots). Her eyes saw the gunbelt on the right leg of the man, with the blaster still holstered. A silver buckled belt held the holster and also kept the tan shirt in place at the beginning of his waist.

A dark jacket covered the shirt, not allowing Estelle's watchful gaze to notice any other weapons other than the blaster, although she did catch a glimpse of a wrist holster in the light.

Her eyes came to his face, finally revealed as the smoke drifted away. Black hair, slightly mussed came together with a solid and furrowed forehead.

The man's jaw was square and firm but it was the smirk, which drew her attention. It held to the man's face, almost as if it were permanent. Even when his mouth opened, the smirk moved with it, retaining its form as he spoke.

"Ya know kid," the voice was low, not a whisper, but smooth and gutteral. Its tone equaled that of the brown eyes which stared at her, amused but with a hint of something Estelle couldn't register.

He took another puff from the cigar, "Only a certain type o'person would hang 'round here."

The smirk grew wider, "Belargic send ya?"

[Estelle Russard]

"You're not supposed to be here"

Estelle hissed across to the man, her brow creased in a mix of confusion and agitation.

She recognized the man before her, his picture in the dossier was years old apparently, but the trademark sneer was unmistakeable. Aurelias Kazaar. She had never met the notorious field agent in person before, but knew him by reputation, as did most at the Academy. He was somewhat of a legend among the newest recruits of Intel Ops - associated with daring raids and gun-blasting adrenelin-rush action-hero stuff, but was viewed less romantically among the more senior operatives. To them he had always been a bit of a wild cannon, a bull-headed SOB who was tolerated because he always got the job done. Always. He was one of the best the Alliance had, and he knew it. And they knew he knew it, as he reminded them repeatedly of the fact.

Kazaar was the Alliance contact who first reported the informer's capture. It was he the civillian was supposed to meet, but with the nature of Kazaar's cover, it had been deemed essential he remain neutral in the recovery mission of the informer. His was an undercover placement the Alliance could not afford to jepardize and was ordered hands off for Birdsong.

Estelle still clutched her blaster, but held it by her side as she stepped closer to her fellow agent.

"You may have been followed" she sniped angrily.

Aurelias stiffled a laugh. The rookie was ticked off.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar's chuckle sounded like a pulsating motor: short, slow, and finely tuned. Almost as if he'd had years to practice its form.

"I'm not supposed t'be here?" the way Kazaar repeated her question said, 'What're you gonna do 'bout it Rookie?'

His eyes still looked at Estelle with amusement, as if he expected the look of contempt and the sound of anger in her voice. She held herself well, that was for sure, even if he could tell she wasn't expecting t'see him. Kazaar guessed her orders were th'normal 'You're going alone so don't expect help.'

Rebel Ops was always like this, he thought, churning out operatives who were 'by the book'. They'd learn at some point.

He took a long, slow puff from his cigar, letting the smoke waft from his mouth and into the air around him. He still hadn't moved from where he leaned up against the wall.

Kazaar's stare only made his smirk look even more annoying to the Rebel.

"Didn't they teach ya at 'Spy School' t'always expect the unexpected. If they didn't...then they're gettin' sloppy."

The former bounty hunter had always called Rebel Ops, 'Spy School', ever since he'd been recruited following his dismissal from the Rebel Army. His superiors had tried t'get him to be one of the first recruits to go through 'school' but Kazaar had refused, saying the only way to learn was to actually do the work. Well...that and he'd gotten better training as a kid than they did in the military.

That hadn't gone over too well with them and Kazaar had been sent out with an 'old school' operative who agreed with his opinion on the subject. Kazaar always figured it was an omission, on the part of Rebel Ops, saying, 'Yeah you may be right...but we're going to do it this way anyway.'

He finally shifted his position from against the wall and took a step toward Estelle. His footsteps were silent, as if he were trying to emphasize the point of why he was the best.

"So kid...what's your plan?

"Ya got one, right? Or did they forget t'teach ya that too?"

[Estelle Russard]

"Yes, I have a plan" she said, defence lacing each syllabll. She didn't like his tone. And she didn't like his manner. And most of all, she didn't like him gate-crashing her mission.

"And you being here" she added, reaching up and plucking the cigar from between Kazaar's teeth "better not louse things up."

She extinguished the cigar under her boot and flashed him an angry look.

"Why exactly are you here, anyway? Ive gotta get your contact out safely. Silently. Not really your M.O is it, Mister Kazaar?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Anger flashed in Kazaar's eyes for just a moment. Estelle held a look of triumph in her eyes, before it faded when he pulled another cigar from his pocket.

"Kid," he stated, slowly to add emphasis, "If there's one thing you should know. You never...ever...take someone's smoke from them."

Kazaar's smile was cockier than normal, "But I'll let it slide...this time."

He winked.

"Trust me...next time ya take a cigar from me...it'll be for your own use."

She was new all right...new and naive. Things didn't work the way it was taught in school. For the most part they could, but there was always the large chance a mission could go back, an operative caught, or a contact killed.

Then there was always the chance of being sold out...that was never fun.

The black haired Rebel veteren pulled a silver butane lighter from his pocket and brought it to the tip of his cigar. It flashed blue, for a minute, then the acrid smell of tobacco filled the alley again. He inhaled the smoke, letting it fill his senses.

There was a certain art to smoking, an art Kazaar made sure he excelled at. To him, it wasn't just inhale-exhale. No, there was a form...a gateway to a time when it was almost fashionable to enjoy tobacco. It gave him a sense of pleasure, knowing he was one of a few who enjoyed these days. Even if it meant angering a few people from time to time.

"I'm here to make sure my guy gets out," Kazaar exhaled one more time, "It may've been his fault (the fracking idiot)...but if it means I gotta save his butt then I will.

"'Sides," the smirk was back, "Belargic mentioned he was gonna send someone t'rescue him. I'm here to make sure ya don't screw th'mynock.

"So, like I said, kid," the voice was serious, "What's...your...plan?"

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle checked her chrono and peeked around the corner of the building, eyeing the relay station once more.

"My plan is up, over and in" she said and as it was clear Aurelias didn't quite follow what she meant, she pointed her finger upwards at a building adjacent to the relay station. His gaze followed her indicated line of sight, but could make nothing out in the darkness of the night. When he looked back to Estelle she was right up in his face.

"If your'e going to smoke that thing, could you hurry up about it. Anytime now the night guard will be making his rounds and that will be my cue to go in."

She twisted round again to face forward, her frown deepening. Where was the guard?

It was another 15 minutes before the guard appeared. He exited a side door, easily spied by both rebel agents from where they waited in the shadows. The man was generic in uniform, build and movement. With the exception of a slight wrestle closing the door against the wind, which Estelle noticed had increased in strength and was blowing southwesterly, his actions were typical of a man going through the motions. He did the same thing he did every other night that he was on shift - check the grounds with a sweep of his flashlight, walk the length of the building keeping a sharp eye out for scuffings in the dirt or signs of attempted entry to the building and radio back to control that all was clear. Then return inside to his favorite book, darkbrew coffee and those little shortbread biscuits until he made his rounds again in 45 minutes, or so.

Its not that the guard minded the task, its just it was so boring. Nothing ever happened. And even though they had that toad stoolie locked up in the janitor's room, no action was expected. If anything, it would be the day-shift guys who got some excitement as everybody knew the vunerable time would be when the prisoner was being transferred. If the rebels were smart, which they aren't, they'd try to grab him enroute to the Inquisitoriate headquarters. If the rebels even wanted the little gnat. Which they wouldn't. The guy didn't even know his way to the lavatories here, let alone some sort of major intel. The guard spoke into his walkie-talkie.
"This is Henri. Aint nuthin doin here"

The reply came back, sharp and humorless."Repeat soldier. ID and current grounds status. Over."

Henri cursed under his breath. Old Nakrin was a stickler for protocol, even out here in the armpit-of-the-galaxy assignment they had. He lifted his radio again to his lips and exhaled loudly.

"This is Bravo 2. Perimiter is clear.Over."

Narkin's reply was crisp, as usual. "Acknowledged, Bravo 2. Over and out."

Estelle whispered back over her shoulder as the guard disappeared again into the station.

"Time to go in."

She turned and sprinted the distance to the building she had pointed out earlier. She scaled the outside fire-escape ladder to the roof and as the first drops of rain fell, she drew from a duffle bag she which had stowed there two hours prior, a crossbow. With a muffled "pop" she shot a black cord over the short distance to the back of the station roof and its vacuum-seal tip adhesied itself to the surface. The butt-end of the crossbow she then pressed up to the cement edge which rimmed the building roof and, pressing a button on the inside of the trigger, held the unit steady as a metal rod shot into and through the concrete and then spring-actioned into a grapple prong holding the whole aparatas and line in place.

Next she took a small pistol and taking careful aim, fired a pellet at the camera mounted also on the roof. This pellet hit its mark precisely, attaching to the side of the camera and instantly opening a tiny vertical mirror which cut, very slightly, the angle of view where she was planning to land. The mirror reflected a small margin of the landscape already in the camera's view and gave Estelle the advantage of a very small "blind spot." And a very small spot was all she required.

Hitching herself to the line by a small pulley and harness cord unit which she'd also taken from the bag she tugged to check all was secure.

Kazaar's shoes scuffed on the ground behind her as he peered over her crouched form and into the duffle bag. Estelle looked up, not the least surprised.

"You still here?"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Without answering her, Kazaar took one last puff of the cigar then tossed it over the side of the roof. It made a *pok* as it hit a small puddle, then *hissed* as it went out.

Estelle shot him a look and he shrugged.

"What'd ya want me t'do," his voice was lower than normal, "Stomp it out like you did? It's against th'rules."

He lowered his body down next to hers, peering out over the expanse between the two buildings. It looked to be a thirty meter distance from roof to roof and the darkness of the sky made it even easier to sneak in. In the distance a craft of some type began to lift off from its mooring at the spaceport.

Kazaar put a gloved hand into the dark duffel bag, felt around a bit, and pulled out another harness. Considering how 'by the book' the kid was being, Kazaar wasn't surprised to find the back-up. Just as he wasn't surprised to find a dark mask in it either.

"Kid," he chided as he tossed her the mask, "When ya gonna learn..."

Estelle silenced him with a *shh* as a pair of stormtroopers walked beneath them. The armed troopers looked around briefly, then wandered off toward a cantina near the end of the street.

"Empire's finest," Kazaar mummured before reaching into his jacket to pull out his own black mask.

Estelle's blue eyes looked at the mask in his hand.

"Hey...the book's got a few good ideas. Let's go."

Kazaar pulled the harness on, adjusting its size to fit his larger frame. Fastending it to the dark rope, he gave it a tug then grunted approvingly.

"Rookies first."

Estelle shot him another look before leaping off the building into space. The rope was almost soundless as she traversed the distance between the buildings. She landed then quickly unhooked herself as Kazaar came in behind her. His own landing wasn't as smooth as hers but Estelle figured it was because of Kazaar's reputation for going into situations with blasters blazing.

Thunder rumbled and rain began falling harder as Kazaar pulled his mask on and gave the area a once over.

The roof was long and flat, pocked with a few vents and fans. The ground was durasteel and echoed if one wasn't careful how he stepped. At the end of the roof a door stood, a security camera fixed above the frame. It was off, though, for reasons Estelle couldn't figure.

"If we take the third vent," Kazaar pointed, "We can sneak through the ducts to get t'where he is. Then we can walk out that door."

The elder spy's grin looked a lot like his smirk.

"Even I can plan ahead, kid."

Kazaar stepped towards the vent, his footsteps muted on the durasteel roof, Estelle right behind him. From somewhere in his jacket, he pulled out a hydrospanner, then began loosening the vent. A few minutes later, the vent was set down next to the opening and Estelle was climbing down into the air duct.

Before he joined her, Kazaar checked his chronometer.

Thirty-five minutes to get the guy out.

Kazaar swung his feet into the duct, then grasped the vent. Hoisting it over his head, he put the vent back in place, then crawled where Estelle waited.

They were in.

[Estelle Russard]

The ducts were narrow and cramped and the pencil-flashlight Estelle had clamped between her teeth revealed as much as she shambled forward on all fours. Her small frame, however, negotiated the confines with an ease the older agent envied. It was impossible for Estelle to look backwards, but she knew Kazaar was right behind her. It seemed he had well and truly joined himself to the mission and she had no choice but to let him.

She could, of course, have shot him on the roof to stop him coming along, but that wasn't really an alternative. In truth, his expertise could only help, as it already had with their entry. Her instructors had always told her that improvisation was the life-blood of the covert operative. Bending the situation to make the most of unexpected wrinkles in the plans was the hallmark of a good spy. She just hoped Director Belargic attended that line of thinking. And she could do worse than having Kazaar on her side. A lot worse. The guy was, after all, a bit of a legend. Some of those stories had to be true. He just better not try ordering her around, thats all.. Beneath her mask, she scowled.

Her thoughts were interupted by sounds coming from up ahead of them. Aurelias had heard them also, as both agents froze immediately in place.

"Voices" Kazaar murmered very softly behind her.

Aurelias knew she heard him by the nodding motion of the flashlight beam, just prior to Estelle extinguishing it.

With increased stealth, the pair resumed their progress forward - the voices getting louder and more distinctive - until they came up to the vent over where the sounds drifted up to them.

Estelle crossed on to the other side so that both she and Kazaar could see into the room below them.

She looked over to Kazaar, who confirmed with a nod what she already knew.

There was their package.

And he had company with him.

[Mirko Spendrim]

The soldier was a little slow at grasping the concept, but Mirko felt it worth the while to perservere. He had, as it happened, no place else to be.

"So, I just wrap the wool around the hook, holding it firmly, but not too tight. See?" Mirko leaned forward holding the crochet needle up for the guard to inspect, "..and then pull ever..so...gently, then dip it through this loop, like that. See?" Again he leaned forward. This time the soldier actually glanced at it and grunted an "uhuh."

Mirko leaned back and continued his work.

"Now, a lot of guys might say its women's work. Or sissy stuff. But what they dont know, is that a lot of men crochet. Well, not a lot, but some. And lots of navy guys do it too. Well, not a lot, but a few. The old time sailors. Well actually, those guys usually knit, gave 'em something to do with their hands. Kept them agile. They were always good with ropes and things like that."

The soldier didn't believe Mirko, but couldnt be bothered arguing with him. The prisoner never shut up. How could a guy talk so much about nothing?

Mirko continued, "I always carry my hook with me. And a ball of wool. You never know when you're gonna have time on your hands, waiting for a cab or something. Get arrested on trumped-up charges of espionage and stuff. I've made some lovely things. Sox. Gloves. Even a colourful wool scarf for myself. You want a scarf?"

"I want you to shut up, toad."

"The scarf was nice. Warm too." Mirko continued to crochet ignoring the soldiers rough answer. Continued to crochet. And talk.

Inside, the diminutive little man worried about how he was gonna be tortured and die at the Imperial Inquisitoriate, and where Kazaar was, and how he might even rescue him tomorrow with any luck.

Maybe he'd crochet Kazaar a scarf. Yeah, that was a good idea.

"Scarves make really lovely gifts."

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar cursed under his breath, as he heard Spendrim's prattling about crocheting. The informant had talked his frackin' ears off three days ago while passing off information regarding the Empire's activities near the Outer Rim.

"You know Aurelias," Spendrim had said, wiping down a part of the table in Kazaar's hideaway. He'd always found the former bounty hunter's place too...dirty, like Kazaar purposefully refused to clean if he knew Spendrim was coming to visit.

"If you ever bothered to find a way to channel that aggression of yours into more appropriate forms of entertainment. Maybe..." a thoughtful look came onto his face, "Needlepoint. Or painting. I hear Dengar considered being a painter before becoming a bounty hunter."

Kazaar gave the diminutive man a glare, "Shaddup Spendrim...whatta ya know about the shipment."

"Not much, I'm afraid...Ah ah! hold your tongue," Mirko had placated his contact, "I did find out something though.

"They're..." he sniffed, as Kazaar lit another cigar, "They're going to be receiving information regarding the shipment in three days. I can get you that information then."

The Rebel spy smirked, "Thanks Spenny. You'll get your usual fee."

Unfortunately, three days later Spendrim was sitting in a dark room waiting to be rescued.

Kazaar pursed his lips as he considered his options. If he could he'd leave Spendrim to rot in his cell and go find the shipment himself. Problem was...the informant knew where it was and Kazaar didn't. He let out a small sigh...then tapped Estelle's leg.

"All right...there's a grate on the other side of th'door. We'll enter through there. Have your blaster ready, but it should be simple. These guys're idiots."

He grinned.

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle didn't move off immediately. Instead, she reached into the breast-pocket of her shirt beneath her black sweater and took out a slender tube which resembled a very thin peice of piping.

It was a pipe, in truth, but one that functioned from compressed air to increase the accuracy and distance of its reach. Within the pipe was a tiny dart, tipped with a fast acting drug. Just a pin-prick to the skin would fell a full grown man. Efficient and silent, it was just what the situation called for.

"Hold the blasters for now, shall we? No point waking the whole station if it can be avoided"

She raised the pipe for Kazaar to appreaciate before leaning up to the grill and deftly lining up the soldier in her sights. A thumb-press to the pipe's end and the dart shot across the room to strike the guard just under the chin.

The soldier slumped where he sat, his back sliding slightly down the wall. So subtly had the guard's neutralizing transpired that it wasnt until Mirko heard the scraping of the grate lifting away as Kazaar removed it that he realised anything had happened at all.

Kazaar dropped through into the room and crossed immediately to the unconscious soldier, confirming he was out. Both agents checked their chronos in unison and met each other's gaze.

They needed to move faster.

******************************

Upstairs, Narkin was checking his own chrono and nudged Henri who had just closed his eyes to 'rest' them.

"Im sending Bravo 3 to check the dish up top. The wind is blowing harder now, no telling whats comin' loose on the roof up there."

Henri made some garbled response that suposedly acknowledged the wisdom of the older man's plan.

Narkin snarled at the younger man - Henri's lack of self-discipline irritated him. "You just keep a sharp eye on the instruments, look out for any irregularities."

*******************************

[Mirko Spendrim]

Mirko pocketed his crochet hook and wool and watched in awed surprise as the masked man checked the soldier while his counterpart looked on from the hole above them. A happy grin suddenly stretched the little man's face as Mirko recognised the person beside him.

"Kazaar, is that you?"

Mirko threw his arms about Aurelias in a euphoric embrace.

"I knew you'd come!"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The look on Kazaar's masked face was priceless. Estelle stifled a laugh, but a bit of a giggle still came from her mouth...

"Get ya hands offa me ya jerk!" Kazaar snarled and pushed Spendrim's arms away from him. His brown eyes sent out a glare, which normally curbed most people, but the informant was too excited to notice.

"I knew you'd come!" Mirko repeated, "I delayed them! Took their minds off of guarding me and onto my talking! It worked!"

Kazaar shook his head in bewilderment. Even in danger, Spendrim refused to shut up. Almost as if the talking put him at ease. Even so, the information broker was one of the better dealers out there. Not as good as the Empire or the Rebellion, but someone who could get the right info...for a constant talker.

"Look, shaddup for a minute," Kazaar groused, "You're not outta the woods yet."

He turned to Estelle, "All right kid. Up'n out."

"Bravo Three come in please," a voice over the unconcious guard's comlink stated.

"Something's come loose up on the roof. I want you to go check it out. I'm sending Bravo Two to relieve you..."

"Aw hell," Kazaar muttered.

***********************************

"...of guarding the prisoner," Narkin stated a mirthless smile on his face.

"Why you sending me?" Henri was awake enough to recognize the words Narkin had just spoken, "I thought you wanted me checking the instruments?"

For one, Henri was willing to check the instruments instead of checking on the prisoner. He'd sneaked a sandwich down to Krall (Bravo Three) earlier when Narkin was out on patrol. The guy they'd captured was talking Krall's ear off about knitting or cleaning or something. Demanded a cloth too so he could make the room where they were holding him cleaner. Krall had warned the prisoner about talking too much, then threatened to hit him. That'd shut the guy up for a minute...but only a minute.

Henri sighed...he didn't want to go down there. Not at this time of night when he could be resting.

Narkin's rough voice cut into his wishes by saying something about how prison guards had to be replaced every few hours and something about 'Bespin Syndrome' (named after a group of Civilians who'd struck up relations with their captors after some sort of rebellion on Bespin).

Then Narkin added, "Plus I all ready guarded the guy. I'll stay here."

The cynic in Henri said it was to remain warm and quiet. He sighed again and got up from his semi-comfortable chair. He'd take the back way...that'd extend his trip a bit.

***********************************

Kazaar moved the body of the unconcious guard making it look like he was actually asleep. Even if this 'Bravo Two' was smart, in a city not used to any sort of military 'action' it was probably normal for guards to find a nice place to curl up for an hour or so.

"The back stairs are th'best way to get out," Kazaar's face was all business as he strode back to the door. Pulling it open, his masked face scanned the hallway for any 'visitors'. Nothing.

"Go. And keep it quiet. That means you, Spenny."

The trio slipped out the door and into the hallway. The tiled floor occasionally echoed with their footsteps but, for the most part, it was silent and empty. Panels of light embedded in the walls kept the hallway lit but also gave enough shadows to hide in case they had to.

They stopped at the edge of a corridor and Kazaar pointed to the black door to their right, an Imperial logo emblazened on it.

"There...let's go."

Kazaar ran point as the three scurried to the door and into the gray staired hallway which led to the roof.

"Up," he smirked. This was too easy.

[Estelle Russard]

...This was too easy...

Kazaar knew better than to think such things.

BLANG--BLANG--BLANG--BLANG

The alarm klaxon reverbated throughout the entire facility as they reached the top landing.

Kazaar swore loudly, Estelle swore under her breath - and Mirko started almost out of his gungan leather wingtips as the deafening cacophany of bells assulted them when they burst through the metal exit door and out onto the roof.

As Henri was making his way down to the room where Mirko had been held, Narkin had continued trying to raise bravo three on the radio. With every moment a reply was not forthcoming, the old soldier's inner warnings grew.

"Come in Bravo 3. Over."

-----------

Nothing. Not even static.

"Repeat - Bravo 3 respond. Over."

-----------

Narkin slammed a weathered palm on the shiny red button setting off the universally arresting sounds of the intruder klaxons.

Henri had just arrived at the Janitor's door when the sound made him spin in his place. He instantly drew his blaster - self preservation kicking in immediately - and turned again in another circle, looking everywhere at once. No immediate danger. "What the frell.....?"

Henri tried the door, it was locked. He thudded his fist against it and yelled for Krall to open immediately or he'd come in there and kick his sorry hide. A split second to decide, then Henri fired his blaster to the lock and busted open the door. Krall was curled on the floor like a child.

"Narkin..Bravo 1, this is Bravo 2. Krast, Three's down. Prisoner's fled. Repeat, prisoner's fled! He's freakin gone!! Am in pursuit." Henri bolted for the back stairs, as he made his panicked report, "Over."

[Mirko Spendrim]

Terror shot through Mirko as his senses became overwhelmed. The racket of the alarms made it hard for him to keep a coherent thought in his head and the violent gusts of wind that threatened to carry him off the rooftop made it almost impossible for him to be heard, even though he was yelling into the back of Kazaar's head as loud as he could. The darkness of the night, the coldness of the rain, the knowledge Imperial soldiers were running around the place with blasters looking for them - it all made him feel like he'd been caught in a tornado that would whisk him into oblivion at any moment.

The other agent had followed close behind him and had the back of his blazer clutched tightly in one fist. She was holding on to him atleast. But who was holding on to her?

Kazaar had run off into the dark as if to check something and then came back to them so that they now stood in a tight cluster, faces pushed forward so that they could see and hear what was being said as the wind whipped about them.

Mirko seized the moment. "You got a ship right?" He yelled, looking from Aurelias to Estelle. "A ship to get us outta here? Kazaar? You brought your ship right?"

Mirko worried he wasnt being clear enough.

Aurelias looked to his partner, as if expecting an answer.

From the doorway, a movement caught Mirko's eye and he yelled.

"Gun!"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Henri hurtled up the stairs three at a time. He was new at this but the back of his mind started going over everything which might happen if he caught the talkative Rebel.

A promotion. A new shift. Maybe even the chance to order Narkin around, instead of vice versa.

Henri put all the thoughts away as he reached the last flight of stairs to the roof. His breath came out in gasps and his heart was like a drum pounding in his chest.

The Imperial took a moment to catch his breath, then walked up the remaining steps. As he reached the grey doorway, something churned in the back of his mind.

If the Rebel was alone...how did he take Krall down?

Henri shrugged and raised his blaster as the door opened up to the rain soaked roof.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the streaks of rain which came down from the sky like gizkas spawning...fast and without thought of what was around them.

His ears picked up the words, 'Gun!' and he started to yell the only words which came to his mouth,

"FRE-"

******************************************

Narkin cursed under his breath again, as the alarm reverberated throughout the complex.

He keyed in the switch to the local Imperial garrison and got some bleary-eyed young officer, wearing a uniform too big for his small frame, looking like he'd just woken up.

"Yes-I mean- Imperial Garrison Zeta-Zeta-Beta reporting in. What's your status, Relay Station ST90."

Narkin stared at the screen and growled.

"We have a situation here, Zeta-Zeta-Beta. Prisoner A has disappeared from his holding cell, incapacitating one guard. One of my men is currently in pursuit, but we request reinforcements to make sure this doesn't happen again."

The officer onscreen looked a bit nervous, as if to say, 'But I only have three guys and they're protecting me!'

His voice stated similar sentiments, "Well-ah- as you know...we only have a limited amount of resources here. I only have one armed transport which requires at least four to operate and I have five her-"

Narkin sighed and shook his head.

"Zeta-Zeta-Beta...the prisoner is the one who found out about the shipment which is getting ready to leave Felucia. I believe it would be of interest to send the transport to capture him again."

The Imperial Officer paused a moment and considered what was said. It was obvious to Narkin, the man...no boy...had no idea what the transport was (Narkin didn't either) but he knew it was important.

The Officer sighed visibly and nodded his head, "Reinforcements are on their way."


*******************************************

At the sound of Spendrim's warning, Kazaar did the only thing his mind would allow him to do.

He jumped.

Straight at the doorway, the sound coming from his tobacco covered lips was something between a growl and a howl.

In his mind, the former bounty hunter figured whoever was opening the doorway would be expecting to see Spendrim standing on the wet rooftop, probably shivering (which he was), and praying to whatever gods he believed in to get out of this mess.

No one would expect to see someone hurtling towards them. Hell, the kid probably didn't even expect him t'do it either. But it was a risk worth taking.

'Sides...he liked working 'up close and personal'.

The Rebel's momentum took him straight into Henri, knocking his blaster up into the air where it harmlessly went off into the pouring rain.

The two fell back into the complex and tumbled down the flight of of stairs, Kazaar's left knee slamming into the first stair...while Henri's head hit the sixth with a very loud *KRACK*.

His eyes rolled back into his head and Henri went silent, as he and Kazaar came to a rest at the bottom of the stairs. Even though Kazaar knew the Imperial was unconcious (and possibly dead), he still connected a roundhouse punch to his jaw, just to 'be safe'.

Henri's comlink crackled, "Bravo Two...Report."

The Rebel rose to his feet, tested his left leg (it's gonna be sore in an hour or so), and grinned as he saw two heads peek back into the building and down at the body at his feet.

He put his gloved hand over the comlink to muffle his raspy voice.

"I'm afraid 'Bravo Two's a little busy right now," he chuckled, "Kinda...indisposed. Leave a message."

Then he flipped the comlink off and tossed it down the stairwell, where it smashed into three parts.

Estelle's voiced echoed in the stairwell, "What the hell is wrong with you!?!"

The grin turned into a smirk and Kazaar started trudging up the stairs again, favoring his left leg just a bit.

"Like I said, Kid...expect the unexpected. That's lesson number one."

He reached where the two were standing and stared out over the roof. In the distance he saw the lights of the city winking on and off,and what appeared to be a transport take off from a building about a mile away.

His black eyes noted it appeared to be headed in their direction.

"The second is...'Always have a backup plan'. 'Specially since our 'friends' in the control room're prolly calling what Imperials there are on this rock and planning t'shut it down.

"And since that transport there is headin' our way...We need t'find cover...NOW!"

He pulled Estelle and Mirko back into the building, as blaster fire laced the roof around them. The transport was indeed heading towards them, its intent now known.

"I've got us a ship...but I need a distraction, kid.

"Care t'provide it? Or does 'Spy School' not teach that?"

[Estelle Russard]

Estelle crouched in the recess of the stairwell landing, protected by the angle of the doorframe but still able to keep a visual on the approaching ship. Beside her stood Mirko, and beside him Kazaar, both necks craned slightly forward to see outside. Kazaars thick black hair was plastered thick to his forehead and Mirko had raindrops rolling off his nose.

The rain was torrential now, the wind gusting violently about the rooftop. But neither seemed to have any slowing effect whatever on the approaching gunship.

Estelle pulled off one glove and tapped in some co-ordinates on her digitized wrist band. She then spoke into the built-in communicator on the same band.

"C-R-zero-D, did you get those?"

A droid replied over the comm -- Yes Ophelia--

"R0D, send the decoy up, then come get us at that location. Its a small field left of the Uratta River. You got that?"

Again the droid -- Yes Ophelia--

"Our ETA is 7... (here Estelle paused and looked up at her two companions - Mirko was fidgeting nervously and Kazaar was absently rubbing his hurt leg)...better make that 10 minutes. Dont be late"

---10 minutes, roger that Ophelia---

Estelle stood up and gave Kazaar a direct look. "You gonna be ok, we still gotta do the jump?"

Mirko shook his head in reply oblivious that she wasnt talking to him, "I dont know. Ive never done anything like this. I dont have training like you guys... What jump?"

Kazaar gave Mirko a thump to the back of the head to stop the chatter. "Dont worry 'bout me, kid. I been at this game since before you played dressup and teaparties. That droid of yours reliable?"

She turned toward the tumultuous sky and Aurelias followed her gaze. In the distance Kazaar saw the lights of another ship growing more distinct.

"More than alot of men I know" she said with a grin.

Below them a clang of footsteps echoed in the lower levels of the stairway. "We're about to have some more company. We gotta get to the other roof. I"ll take Mirko, can you cover us?"

Kazaar's crooked smile told her that was a stupid question and he took out a second blaster to have one in each hand.

"Good. Dont dally too long playing hero Kazaar" Kazaar took it that Estelle was finally warming up to him and gave her a garrulous smile. She seemed to read his mind and promptly corrected the misconception. " We're gonna need your ship"

She grabbed Mirko by the collar and firing a volley of blaster fire at the nearing ship dragged the little man into the darkness in an alarmingly zig-zagging fashion with her over to where the line and pulley were waiting.

[Mirko Spendrim]

"Hey wait. Slow down. Lady -- wait!"

Mirko protested in vain as Estelle strapped a harness around him and began clicking things into place. The whole thing was making him very nervous. Across from them, Kazaar was shooting off enough rounds to make a fireworks display look like a candle vigil during Hutt holy week. She yanked him to the ground as a wayward laser bolt went zinging by his head and saillied off into the dark.

"Listen Mister. We gotta get off this roof" Estelle worked furiously to hook herself up. "Keep your head down" she pulled him back to his feet, "your mouth shut" she wrapped her arms around him "and pray Aurelias doesnt run out of cell"

Mirko kind of liked the whole hugging in the rain bit, but that didnt last long. The young rebel tightened her grip and "ping" just like that, she flung them both off the roof into the abyss of vacant air below.

Fortunately the wind carried Mirko's high-pitched scream away into the night.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar's smile was one of triumph and excitement.

This was the part of the job he loved...the part where everything went to hell and the only things which could be relied upon were his instincts and his blasters. It was then...when Kazaar truly felt like he was worth a damn.

The stairs echoed with sounds of stormtrooper plasteel boots. Not many, Kazaar's mind worked, six at the most...four was a more likelihood.

He checked his chronometer. Fifteen minutes had past since he and Estelle had entered the communications relay. They still had 20 before the transport would be there, although the Empire might be attempting to speed things up with the escape of Spendrim. Kazaar was almost certain that was the case.

If anything...the spaceports were locked down.

Keeping his left blaster trained on the stairwell, the former bounty hunter reached into his jacket, pressed a button, then pulled his hand out just as five Imperial stormtroopers rounded the last corner of the stairs.

"Freeze!" the mechanical voice rang out, as the troopers raised their blaster rifles.

Kazaar, almost lazily, shot him in the helmet sending the white-clad trooper tumbled into his companions. As they struggled to shove their dead colleague away, the Rebel let loose a volley of blaster fire.

The smile on his face was deadly as he let loose torrents of death at the Imperials. This was indeed the part of the job he loved...the part where he could get 'up close and personal'...it made him feel...alive and whole.

It was over almost before it began. The Imperials lay dead, their bodies strewn across the stairwell like dominos hastily thrown on a table before being re-shuffled for a game.

Kazaar grabbed one of the blaster rifles from a dead trooper and gave his customary smirk.

"Empire's finest."

He strode out onto the roof, ignoring the pain in his left leg. The rain washed away the sounds of the slaughter in the hallway and soaked his masked face.

To his left, 'The Kid' and Spenny had just made it to the edge where they would make their jump for the other roof. Above him, the Imperial transport was coming to bear.

Blaster rifle in hand, Kazaar fired upon the transport if only to get its attention.

Estelle and Mirko were hooked to the rope now and leaped for the other roof. Kazaar shook his head in amusement as the scream which escaped the Information Broker's lips made it to his ears.

The transport was just now coming to bear on him, the rain masking whether there was just one or possibly more targets firing upon them. This was it, Kazaar's mind echoed, the time to go.

It was then his brown eyes caught something streaking across the sky, burning engine dust like there was no tomorrow.

A ship...the decoy Estelle had called for earlier. An older model of the transport currently in use by the Empire, it was homing in on their location. The Imperial transport began shifting positions again, turning its bulk toward the oncoming ship. If anything, Kazaar figured, the pilot on board was thinking what most people would...take away the escape route for the Rebels...force them to go underground...let the army find them. After all, it was a small planet.

Streaks of blue from the Imperial transport's ion cannons burned through the sky as it fired upon the other transport. Kazaar began limping his way toward the thin line which would take him across to where Estelle and Mirko waited for him. Although if they were smart...they'd leave and get out.

The decoy ship was hit twice by the ion blasts but continued forward. Kazaar clipped himself to the line and started hobbling down to the edge.

As the Imperial transport increased its rate of fire, hoping to send the decoy ship into the street below, Kazaar leaped into empty space and started his return to the other roof.

The decoy ship kept coming at the Imperial transport, its systems starting to go haywire as the ion blasts began to take their effect on it.

It was then the Imperial transport pilot realized something...the older model transport wasn't here to rescue the Rebel scum...no...it was here to distract them. Orders were issued to pull up, get the frack out, and turn around to avoid the dying transport.

The Imperial transport started to pull up from its position, just in time for the decoy transport to slam into it head on. Durasteel screeched against durasteel, then melted as the engines on both exploded, evaporating any rain which came across it. The two transports fell to the earth and exploded, defacing the front of the communications relay with debris.

Kazaar smirked as he slid across the last bit of space and landed on the rooftop. A hint of a wince came across his face, but he still marvelled the destruction behind him. Both Estelle and Mirko emerged from a hiding place behind an air ventilation unit to his left.

"Kid, whatever droid you told t'send the decoy ship...give 'em an oil bath. That was a helluva show."

His face turned serious, "Third rule...ya shouldn't have waited. Spenny here's the more important person. 'Sides...I can handle myself."

He glanced back at the fire from the wreckage of the two transports. People were starting to come out of the buildings around it to stare at the flames and the destruction in front of them, ignoring the deluge. Even from their location the trio of Rebels could hear the *hiss* of metal as it was pelted by rain.

Kazaar turned back to Estelle and Mirko, "My ship oughta be here inna few. Let's get th'hell outta here."

[Estelle Russard]

As Kazaar landed, Estelle and Mirko ran over to him. She deftly uncliped Kazaar from the line while he gave her another paraphrased lecture. She had been to spy school didnt he know? Oh frell, now she was calling it 'spy school'.

"We got four minutes before R0D gets to the field," They ran to the fire escape and Estelle motioned for them to go down as she continued speaking. "...He'll touchdown, but we're not going to board"

Kazaar went over first, reaching over his head and pulling the hem of Mirko's jacket as the little man clambered over also. Mirko paused for a moment to query "We're not boarding?"

Estelle pushed the curly-topped head downward and then, duffle bag swung over her shoulder, she too descended, sliding down with both feet on the outer edges of the ladder to drop nimbly beside the others.

"Kazaar, like I said before, we need your ship. R0D will lead any pursuers away from us. We will rendevous with him later" (this she added for Mirko who appeared to be having trouble following things).

The streets were busier than Estelle cared for, now that the fireshow had started. The flames would soon diminish and then eyes would turn from its blazing splendor and attend on other things. They needed to be long gone by then.

"Lead on then Aurelias, we dont have time to dwadle"

[Aurelias Kazaar]

"Double decoy," Kazaar's raspy voice had a bit of admiration to it, "Good work, kid. But ya might want t'take your mask off. Ya might look a bit less conspicuous that way."

He reached out, pulling her soaked mask off with one hand, the other doing the same to his own mask. He then placed them in his jacket pocket, the unmentioned lesson being the less evidence the better.

Estelle's hair was plastered to her face and she absentmindedly pushed it away from her forehead. At least now it didn't look like she'd been wearing a mask. The former bounty hunter made no movements to do the same to his, Kazaar knew how unruly his hair looked and didn't care. Spendrim, on the other hand, just stood there and shivered.

Kazaar pointed down the fire-lit street toward a building 20 meters away. It looked like most other buildings on the street, except this one displayed the name, "Hanius Conglomerate" in bright neon letters over the entrance to the building.

"Let's go. Kid...you go on one side of the street, I'll go with Spenny on the other."

The trio stood at the entrance to the alley, admiring the fire still pouring from the destroyed transports (just to give off the impression they were just three people who'd happen to wander onto the scene of a fire, instead of being the cause of it).

Mirko and Kazaar crossed over to the other side of the street, the former still fidgeting a bit at the notion of escape. He'd put himself into dangerous situations before but normally they involved just poking around to get information, not capture with the chance of enslavement (or worse).

The Rebel Operative nudged Mirko, "Don't look so uptight, Spenny. Just relax and enjoy th'rain."

"That easy for you to say," Spendrim replied, pulling his coat up around his ears, "You haven't spent the last three days in a holding closet. A holding closet which makes your rather disorganized apartment look like it's the Ritz."

Kazaar chuckled, his laughter coming out in spurts again, "Aw relax. C'mon...we're here," he nodded to Estelle as she crossed the street towards them. A squadron of Imperial stormtroopers ran by them, causing Estelle to pause- her heart in her throat- but they continued toward the scene of the fire.

"Ya ready kid?"

The female RebelOps spy nodded, "Where'd Mirko go?"

"In here," a voice came from the doorway, where the Information Broker had hidden himself when the Imperials had approached. A head emerged from the darkness, looking everywhichway, like a ro-roo looking for predators. Kazaar stifled a grin but Estelle was serious.

"We need to go now, Aurelias."

Kazaar's grin turned to something unintelligable, "Let's go then...in and up to the roof."

They took a turbolift up, Kazaar checking the transmission from his ship ensuring its strength. After they exited the top floor, the former bounty hunter led them to the stairwell to the roof. The door, red and mottled with age, opened with a *screech* of metal upon metal and the trio exitted onto the rain-soaked roof.

"Looks a lot like the one we just left," Mirko lamented as he stared through the rain.

"No one's shooting at us though," Estelle replied, "Okay where's this ship of yours?"

Kazaar grinned and pointed to and object slowly descending from the sky.

The ship was Corellian in design, a YT-2000 to be exact. It did possess the usual 'saucer-like' hull of the 'YT-series' but the cockpit was at the front of the hull, instead of 'off right' like most Corellian freighters. The hull was dark, shades of black and grey gave the ship a 'phantom-like' look, with two yellow stripes on both the starboard and port sides, giving Estelle the impression it was meant to show allegiance to some faction or another.

The landing pad lowered and the three humans walked into the freighter. The first thing which met both their nostrils was the smell of stale tobacco smoke from the many cigars Kazaar had smoked in the ship. Estelle and Mirko's nostrils both rankled at the smell, while Kazaar seemed not to notice it at all.

"This is The Night Train. I'll give ya a tour later," he said as he sauntered towards the cockpit.

An astromech droid from the R7-series warbled as Kazaar passed it. The bounty hunter had once been asked why he used the R7 and not the more popular 'R2-series' of droids. Kazaar's reply had been, "Because everyone uses those damn things. And I ain't everyone."

It was the same response he gave about the YT-2000 freighter. Everyone had a YT-1300 so he'd be different.

He uttered a greeting to the droid as he walked by, to Spenny and 'The Kid' they heard the word, "Trey" but weren't sure if that was the name. When Kazaar said it again, the two confirmed it was the name of the droid.

"Trey...we clear t'space?" Kazaar slid into the cockpit seat, not bothering to strap himself in, as he grasped the controls. The droid warbled something and Kazaar cursed.

"I was afraid those sithspawn would get 'ere sooner."

Mirko's face turned white as he sat in his seat, Estelle sitting next to him.

"What?" he breathed.

"Aw nothin'," Kazaar smirked, "Imp frigate is up above us. Don't worry...we can outrun it."

The Night Train shot through the sky like a vibroblade cutting through flesh, rain pelting the hull and lightning shooting around it.

It was on flight such as this, Kazaar preferred his primary ship, The Flying Dutchman. It was smaller and more maneuverable, plus it tended not to be struck by lightning. But it was closely associated with him, since his bounty hunting days with Gorgja the Hutt, and this mission was one he had to leave it behind.

The Night Train had been a gift from Gorgja as well, payment for killing a rival ganglord, a Sullustan named Ka-Ron, who somehow got big in the Exchange (Sullustans weren't known for their prowess at crime but this one was). Kazaar'd accepted it but never said when he'd use it...but he did find uses from time to time.

As the freighter emerged from the storm and into space, Spendrim pointed to the object off to their right.

"A frigate! We're doomed!"

Kazaar turned around to smack him, noticing a bit of pain in his right shoulder, "Relax, Spenny...could be worse. Could be a Super Star Destroyer. 'Sides...this ship ain't affiliated with the Rebellion."

Estelle was certain it wasn't, but inquired to whom it was 'affiliated' with.

The smile on the Kazaar's face was unforgettable, "I stole th'ID from a Rodian who works for Kimikii Crei. I figure if th'Empire gets on Crei's albino butt it won't be too bad.

"Never liked that bastard."

He stared out at space, watching as his sensors flashed with the sound of approaching TIE Fighters.

A smirk, then he pressed a button and the stars turned to white lines. They were in hyperspace.

"We're headed f'Bpfassh, then we'll jump t'meet with Belargic," Kazaar shrugged out of his soaked jacket, letting it splay on the pilot seat.

It was then Estelle noticed the tattoo on his left arm. Both of them actually. The first was a logo of some sort of speeder corporation, she figured he'd gotten it at some point in his early life. The second...was the symbol of the Rebellion, the red standing out on his tan arm. She inquired about it and Kazaar laughed.

"I gotta Imperial signal on me too, though they can't see it. I put it so it'd appear I was 'deep cover' but it's gotta different meaning. Basically it means the Empire can kiss my as-"

Spendrim interrupted him, his hands pressed to his temples, "Please...enough crassness for one day...Kazaar...you're bleeding."

The Rebel spy looked at his right shoulder and smirked at the blaster bolt and the spreading patch of blood, "Whatta ya know...one of the stormtroopers tagged me."

[Mirko Spendrim]

Mirko, apart from being a very excellent knitter, was not a bad medic either. His nimble fingers worked the stitches neatly into the skin of Kazaar's shoulder and finished the job off with a neat and very square gauze patch.

They had left the danger of the Riso System behind them and were enroute to the wonderfully safe Rebel Alliance rendevous point.

Estelle was sending off her report to the Intel big-wigs, Kazaar was snoring in the overhead bunker, a cigar smouldering in the ashtray nestled on his chest, smoke spiralling languidly up toward the bulkhead and Trey was flying the ship. Or keeping an eye on the autopilot that was flying the ship. Or something.

Mirko put away the medical case and took out his knitting from his pocket, the soft, methodical click-click of the needles no competition for Kazaar's ungodly snores.

[Estelle Russard]

<U>EPILOGUE</U>


"R0D..er, C-R-zero-D has since contacted us and has landed at one of our outposts in the mid-rim. He is going under a small refit and the crew there will see to it that the ship is re-ID'd and remodelled enough to be useful again in futher operations.

Mr. Spendrim is in good health and being debriefed by Agent Turro as we speak."

She looked to Director Belargic, trying not to notice that he wasnt really listening- or atleast, the fact that he hadn't stopped glaring at Kazaar seated beside her made it appear that way - was making her a little nervous. More than a little, actually.

"The..er, the information Mr. Spendrim has been able so far to tell us, myself and Aur--er, Agent Kazaar, suggests an important shipment out of Felucia in the near future.."

Here she stopped, unsure whether to continue. The tension in the room was becoming alarming. She felt very, very warm and uncomfortable.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

The grin on Kazaar's face was poo-doo eating...like he knew he was in trouble but didn't care. The kind of grin a kid gives his parent when he's caught with the next door neighbor's daughter doing...things (especially when the neighbors don't get along).

He'd filed his own report...or at least attempted to file he own report, the former bounty hunter had always hated the damn things. But the report basically said what happened: He'd gotten his orders to stay away from Spendrim, but decided to go against it when he found out Belargic was sending an untested rookie to pull out Spendrim. It wasn't he didn't trust Estelle (in fact he complimented on her ability to get the job done), but Kazaar believed it was important to not necessarily do things 'by the book' which is what ended up happening.

He hadn't compromised the mission (despite what one of the lower level directors had said), instead he'd made sure they'd gotten out. It had turned out R0D had run into a small spot of trouble with an Imperial patrol on the way out of Spindrift but had escaped. Kazaar had pointed out it could have been Estelle and Spendrim in a 'spot of trouble' not the droid.

The Rebel Operative had spent a couple of hours in a bacta tank to patch up the wounds to his leg and shoulder (turns out he'd torn a ligament and fractured his leg during the mission), then changed into his usual dark pants with a light colored shirt. The taste of bacta was still in his mouth as he rolled the unlit cigar (even he wasn't dumb enough to smoke in front of 'Bossman') around.

"We didn't even have t'use Evanar t'slice the info. Whatever the Empire's planning, they weren't expecting us t'be there," Kazaar smirked as he interupted Estelle's report.

It wasn't that he didn't like Belargic (not completely), it was just Kazaar could never understand why everything had to be 'by the book'. They were spies and operatives, not police officers. If a mission went bad ya told your commander why, but in simple sentences not five-page papers.

Kazaar gave a sigh, "Ya oughta congratulate 'the kid' on a job well done, Bossman. She did a good job."

[Dasquian Belargic]

“Yes... as much as I hate to agree with him,” the Director replied, his tongue firmly planted in his cheek, “Agent Kazaar is right. Thanks to you Spendrim is safely in our custody once more.”

There was a report on the table in front of Dasquian, which he idly thumbed for a moment. He glanced back up, and saw Aurelias smirking that smirk of his. Once upon a time, Kazaar had been one of the branches foremost agents. For a time, Dasquian had even looked up to him. He had been part of a collective of agents renowned for getting the job done, at all costs.

He respected the man, there was no doubt about that, but the last thing that a freshly graduated agent needed was a jaded old-timer like Aurelias leading her astray – especially during the initial and probationary periods in her career. If you were going to bend and break the rules, you had to first learn what they were. They would speak with Kazaar in private later.

“As for the information you have retrieved...” he turned his eyes back to the report briefly. “The Empire have occupied Felucia for some time now, though we haven't had word of anything out of the ordinary happening there. It is quite possible, though, that the planets dense rainforest's may be hiding something. We know that there is an a fortified compound a short distance from the capital Kway Teow... it wouldn't be a vast leap of logic to think that the Imperials were making use of it.

“Kazaar,” Dasquian looked up, with a thin smile. “I'd like you to investigate this further.”

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar matched Belargic's thin smile, although a look of irritation flashed into his eyes briefly. Ironically, it wasn't because of the upcoming mission (it did play a part though) but the fact he just could not get the taste of bacta out of his mouth.

Kazaar hated the kind of mission he'd just been given. Everytime he was given this, he felt hampered...as if a part of him was being denied. The part which rejoiced at getting his information from newly-beaten lowlifes, working your way up the food chain until the target was in sight. THAT was the kind of mission the former bounty hunter preferred. The kind of missions he'd been given plenty of when Madine ran Rebel Ops...Ever since Belargic had taken over, Kazaar had felt more squeezed than normal.

The cigar rolled to the other side of his mouth and Kazaar's reply matched his smile.

"Of course, Bossman. But I wanna know something...Am I gonna be cleaning Imperial refreshers again t'get info...or do I actually get to do something?"

[Dasquian Belargic]

“As you may have deduced, we have very little information on the current status of Imperial activities on Felucia, besides what Mr. Spendrim has provided us with. Your mission is to find out exactly what this important shipment is... exactly how you go about finding that out of entirely down to you and the situation you find yourself in.” Somehow, Dasquian thought that, unfortunately, would mean punching first and asking questions later.

[Aurelias Kazaar]

Kazaar smiled as he moved his body from its languid position to standing in front of Belargic. He'd have to get ready if he was going to leave for Felucia by the morrow.

'Sides...he had to get The Flying Dutchman out of drydock and replace it with The Night Train.

Giving a mock salute, the former bounty hunter pulled out a lighter, and lit his cigar.

"Thanks Bossman," he said between puffs of the cigar, noting the director's look of distain.

As Kazaar left the room he gave Estelle a nod, "Good workin' with ya kid. Look forward t'doing it again."

The door slid closed behind him and Kazaar was gone.

[Estelle Russard]

Alone with the Director, Estelle felt the urge to explain - or even apologize - for Kazaar, but Dasquian's patient smile told her it was not necessary. Belargic was far more used to Kazaar's way of doing things than she probably ever would be, and the man's fondness for bucking the system rolled off Dasquian like water off a ducks back. Mirko was safely in Alliance hands, Estelle was no worse the wear for laboring so closely with Aurelias, and only one ship was blown up during the course of the mission which was an overwhelming success where ever Kazaar was involved.

Dasquian took a deep breath, as if re-setting his inner thoughts from the present and moving on to new concerns. He pushed himself up from the table with both hands, the debriefing over.

With a "dismissed" and "get yourself some rest" admonission, Dasquian also left the consul room.

Estelle smiled as she caught his added "good work, Russard" with the closing of the door behind him.